


187.

by jonwalker, lizzicleromance



Category: Dexter (TV), Frank Iero - Fandom, Gerard Way - Fandom, My Chemical Romance, cat and mouse - Fandom, frerard - Fandom, homicide - Fandom, killings - Fandom, male slash - Fandom
Genre: Dexter - Freeform, Fanfiction, Frerard, M/M, MCR, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonwalker/pseuds/jonwalker, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzicleromance/pseuds/lizzicleromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard Way is a 29-year-old blood splatter analyst and a respected part of New Jersey's Homicide unit. He's charming and elusive, witty and happy go lucky; at least in the daylight when he is among his peers. He lives a dark secret double life, one that prevents him from letting anybody get too close to him.</p><p>...That is, until he meets Frank Iero, a 24-year-old that can't seem to keep himself out of trouble, and off of Gerard's mind.</p><p>* This story is based off of our favorite TV show, Dexter. If you are familiar with the show, you'll find similarities because it's what inspired the story, but we will do our absolute best to keep everything as original as we can. This story and the characters in it are all purely fictional, this never ever happened and never will.</p><p>Rated NC-17 for a reason due to profanity, violence, and a good healthy dose of smut... If you don't like the above mentioned combination, this fic probably isn't for you. You have been forewarned!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "You don't know a thing about this life..."

Monday night. 10:45 PM.

Another flick of ashes. Another sip of coffee. Another moment of absolute silence and nothingness surrounding me other than the noise of this crowded street in downtown New Jersey; well that, and the steady adrenaline pumping from my heart.

These days the only time that I ever feel that my heart is truly beating are nights like this, when I am in my favorite pair of black jeans, my favorite plain black V-neck, my favorite pair of black Doc Martens... you must be thinking that I’m some run-of-the-mill mallrat that dresses all in black and worships Satan and shops religiously at Hot Topic. While this was the right assumption of my life about five years ago; in fact I used to manage one of the company’s biggest volume stores in one of the local malls, it couldn’t be farther from the truth now. That job wasn’t paying my bills, and was, sadly, just a job. I needed a career; a big boy job, if you will, and I wanted to make a difference in people’s lives.

I’m a well respected member of New Jersey Metro Homicide, and tonight... I’m out doing what I do best. I only hope that tonight won’t be a complete fucking waste of my time like the last few nights have been.

Tuesday morning, 12:33 AM. 

My breathing was labored, my heart rate was more rapid than it has been in an awfully long time, and the smile on my face was brought on by the unmeasurable euphoria that was coursing through my entire being. It does worry me from time to time that the only time I get this feeling of absolute euphoria was after I’ve successfully completed my... recreational activity... I guess you could call it, but nobody could ever tell. I perfected my alter-ego just perfectly, I made absolute sure of it. To my colleagues and peers I’m always such a happy-go-lucky guy, or so they think. The only way that I can keep this life of secrecy up is if I maintain that other life perfectly, so nobody catches wind of what it is that I occupy most of my free time with.

Tonight had gone better than expected, and as I drove home from the Jersey marina, the only thing on my mind was what a great public service that I had just done for the great people of Newark. They could sleep safe and sound knowing that yet another of the worst fucking scumbags of New Jersey was taking a nice, long swim at the bottom of the Hudson River. The melodic sounds of Queen pierced the air around me, guiding me home to my apartment that blended in well with the rest of suburban life in New Jersey.

As I pulled into the apartment complex, I found my unusually happy demeanor following me up the stairs and down the hall to apartment B-311, where my key reached in to unlock the door into my quiet home- only to find that the door was already unlocked.

Switching from relaxed and fulfilled to hunter and hungry all in the blink of an eye, I thrust my front door open; eyes darting in every direction before hearing some rustling coming from my bedroom. My kitchen was conveniently right in front of the doorway where I was standing, allowing me easy access to one of the largest of all the kitchen knives that I owned, as I crept slowly down the hall toward the sound.

I could hear footsteps on the linoleum floor heading toward me; my heart rate quickening just like earlier, my grip tightening on the knife as my bedroom door opened and out came the figure from within.

“Fucking Christ, bro!”

My little brother stood in the hallway, his erratic voice piercing the otherwise silent air around us. The large basket of overflowing laundry that he held in his hands fell to the ground as I quickly retracted the knife and burst into laughter at my younger brother’s frightened form.

“Jesus, Mikey,” I murmured, shaking my head as I set the knife on the counter, quickly having to retract my killer instincts and tuck them safely away since my little brother wasn’t a threat; Well, to me, at least. I knelt down beside him to help pick up his fallen articles of clothing, giving him my best innocent smile. “Sorry little bro, I didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”

Mikey scoffed. “You fucking would have if you would have bothered to answer or return any of my texts or calls,” he spoke in a rather annoyed tone, causing me to feel a twinge of guilt. I rarely ever paid any attention to my phone when I was out and about; it was far too distracting. Mikey was among the only people that ever tried to reach me, and would often get upset with me because of this.

“Sorry,” I murmured sheepishly, giving a guilty smile as I took his basket full of laundry into the living room and set it down on the coffee table next to another basket, I guess from earlier. “The battery died, you know these phones never stay charged,” I lied, and with the same guilty smile, headed toward the fridge and grabbed two Miller High Lifes from within and handed one of them to him.

“Yeah, tell me about it. I started playing another one of those stupid games and I have to constantly keep mine on the charger,” he replied, grinning as he accepted the frosty beer from me. I don’t know if he was smiling because of the beer, or because I was finally home to hang out with him, or because some crazy person was no longer after him with a knife; regardless, his smile was infectious and all of the guilt was removed from my current demeanor and was replaced with a peaceful one.

“What’s up with the laundry, Michael?” I asked, reaching into one of the baskets and beginning to fold one of his t-shirts. He gave me an amused look, watching me fold it- perfectly, might I add, and set it onto a pile on the table.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering, you know I don’t ever fold my fucking clothes,” Mikey mused, leaning back on the couch and earning an annoyed look from me.

“I know, and you’re welcome,” I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes playfully at him as I continued with my folding. “You couldn’t possibly be here simply because you wanted me to fold your clothes for you.”

“Nah,” he replied, shaking his head. “Well, you know how I’m the king of procrastination,” he began to explain, earning a nod from me. Mikey and I were complete opposites; he was never on time and didn’t know the single last thing about organization. I was always early and liked to keep my things neat and in order, everything in its place.

“Well, I realized earlier this morning when I was getting dressed that I was down to my last good work shirt, so I remembered when I got home that I needed to do laundry, only to find that the fucking washing machine wouldn’t work,” Mikey explained, kicking his feet up on the table.

I nodded again in understanding, and set yet another of his shirts on top of one of the piles of now-neatly folded laundry. “What’s wrong with it?” I inquired, genuinely interested because it was nice to actually sit down and have a nice conversation with my little brother. Quality time with him is one of the only things aside from my earlier activity that helps keeps me sane.

“No clue,” Mikey shrugged, downing the last of his beer and setting the empty bottle on the table. “I’ve got someone coming to look at it tomorrow, so instead of going to one of those washateria places, I figured I’d come here and kick it with you for a bit, even though you were out doing God knows what with who knows what,” he teased with a sly grin, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I could feel some of the color draining my face at his accusation. I hated when he poked into my personal life like this, but, I suppose that I couldn’t really blame him since he is my brother and all.

“I wasn’t ‘out’ with anyone, Michael,” I glared at him, trying to think of how to get off of the subject of my earlier whereabouts.

“Uh huh, sure you weren’t,” Mikey winked at me, getting up from his spot on the couch and heading over to the kitchen. “Right before you tried to kill me when you got home, I saw that little gleam in your eye that told me you obviously got some action tonight. No need to deny it, bro.”

As my little brother rummaged around in the cabinets for something to snack on, I couldn’t help but realize that he was right about one thing, but it isn’t the kind of action he was thinking of. Mikey may be a bit of a slob but his instincts are really sharp; he would make detective in no time if he would dedicate his super sleuthing skills for good use instead of saving it for poking in on my personal affairs.

“I mean, how do you know that? I could have gone running or something,” I reasoned, giving a slight shrug.

“In Docs and skinny jeans?” Mikey inquired, giving me a knowing look as he rejoined me in the living room. “Bullshit, Gerard, but it’s whatever. If you don’t wanna tell me that you were out on a booty call just now, you don’t have to.”

“Jesus Mikey, who even refers to fucking as a booty call anymore?” I murmured, annoyed with the impromptu interrogation that my little brother the police officer was giving me. It bothered me that he thought of me as that type of person to go out and fuck around then return home at all sorts of weird hours, but then again, if he knew what I was really up to, it would very literally destroy him.

Keeping this in mind, I simply put on the best innocent smile that I could give him, as the final piece of his laundry was folded and placed neatly on top of the basket.

“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” I said to him, returning his wink from earlier. “Now, my dear little brother, is there anything else that I can do for you?”

Mikey rolled his eyes at my sad attempt at getting the questions off of me, but even if it hadn’t, the vibrating of his phone now distracted him from what he was about to say.

“You can start with my list of demands by driving us to the latest crime scene, we’ve got another body,” Mikey began, tossing his keys at me and insinuating that we have once again been summoned. I nodded quickly, getting up out of my seat and following my little brother out of the apartment, laundry baskets in hand.

In such a dangerous city where crime never sleeps, it looks like Mikey and I wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight either.


	2. "And after seeing what we saw, can we still reclaim our innocence?"

Blood. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much blood. It’s messy and so, so red.

So beautiful.

I turn my head to see William pull out a white handkerchief from his back pocket and slowly wipe the blood that was dripping from his pocket knife. He does so with such a smug look on his face as he stares down at the man he just murdered in cold blood. Or should I say boy. There wasn’t really a reason, aside from this no-name guy had the misfortune of selling in William’s side of town. This innocent man had no idea that coming up to William and I as we smoked our cigarettes on the corner of 5th and Washington Street that it would be the last thing he did in his young life.

I too stare down at the kid as I reach into my back pocket for my cigarettes. There is blood splattered across his ghost white face and the pool of red begins to seep from under his lifeless body and runs between the gravel in this dirty ally. This kid must be 18, not much older if that. The baggie of white powder is still clamped in his hand, exactly where it was when William had smirked behind his bangs when the kid had asked if we were interested in “some of this good shit.” I remember watching, realizing that William had a routine before he unleashed the evil I knew he had inside of him. That shit smirk was always followed by him tucking his hands into his godforsaken leather jacket and then he would flick his cigarette in his mouth up and down, up and down with his tongue, cock his head to the side before whoever had the misfortune to be locked in his gaze, like a antelope being hunted by a lion, would be at the fate of fucking William Beckett.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” William grumbles as he snaps me out of my thoughts. I glance up at him and watch as he folds up the now drenched red handkerchief and tucks it securely back into his jacket pocket. His knife is now clean and shows no evidence of causing the trauma that lay in front of us. The ally is dark but the small light coming from the convenience store across the way lends a hand in helping me watch William fold up his knife and tuck it back into his pocket.

I stay silent, knowing I really had nothing to say about the events of tonight, I watch William bend down and snatch up the baggie from the kid’s hand. Lighting my cigarette, I slowly inhale as William examines the bag. “I know it’s Wentz. He’s always tryin’ to fuckin’ sell to my people, knowing goddamn well that this part of the city is mine.”

Pete Wentz is our largest competitor. Heroin, meth, cocaine; the works. He does it all, just like us. “Go big or go home.” That’s what William is always spouting out to us. “Defend what is ours, and don’t let anyone get in your way.”

I hold the smoke in my lungs as long as I can, letting my eyes slip shut as the night air blows the smell of fresh blood all around the damp, dirty alleyway. I exhale.

**

For being a part of the biggest drug business' in New Jersey, I have a pretty shitty apartment.

The door creaks when I push it open and creaks again before I slam it shut. The string dangling from the lone light bulb connected to the ceiling in the middle of the room clinks and almost falls from the rafters when I click it on. The light flickers but stays lit. I sigh.

You never dream about becoming a drug dealer, let alone a part of something so much more. I never thought I would ever become so involved, unfortunately so unwillingly. William plays hard, and once you’re involved with him there’s no turning back. If I could tell stupid 16-year-old Frank Iero to turn and run for the fucking hills when he met William Fucking Beckett at that low-life, shitty bar 8 years ago, I would. In a heartbeat.

But unfortunately I can’t turn back time. Or at least I haven’t met anyone just yet that could help me with that.

My fridge is empty aside from a 24-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon and grape jelly. Unfortunately I ran out of bread and peanut butter three days ago and I still haven’t gotten paid from Willam yet this month. Thankfully my landlord is a pothead that lives in the apartment below me, and doesn’t require much other than an eighth every week to cover for the lack of income I produce. Luckily it’s easy to acquire at my job.

I crack open a beer and slip a baggie of my own pot out of my jean jacket before throwing it on the back of my futon. I sit down and flick on the small tv sitting across the room. Squinting through the static on screen, I begin to roll myself a joint.

Smoking helps me relax and tonight has been a stressful one at that. Lighting up the joint, I inhale and my heart rate begins to slow and I smile. I am rarely around when William does those kind of things. I like to stay out of that side of the business, for the fact that being caught isn’t fun. It’s happened to me a few too many times to count. Plus when murder comes into play, New Jersey cops don’t take lightly to you telling them how innocent you are; that you had nothing to do with it, you swear.

I find this out the next morning when I wake to someone kicking down my creaky front door and pinning me down to the futon I fell asleep on the night before. There’s shouting and when my eyes fly open I see a darker skinned guy with slicked back hair kneeling one of his legs on my chest, holding me down while pointing a gun right at my face. He’s wearing a clip on badge reading ‘Brendon Urie – Homicide’ and my heart leaps into my throat.

Fuckin’ William Beckett.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #2! Please let us know what you think, we are so in love with this story and hope you guys are too!


	3. "This is how we like to do it on the murder scene..."

A sudden breeze caused the dark, dirty alley way to seemingly come to life. The metallic scent of fresh blood splatter filtered through my nostrils as I stared in absolute awe of the scenery around me. A single slice to the heart is what caused the victim to lay here in the damp alleyway; a place that I’m sure felt very much like home to him if he was out in this part of town in the wee hours of the morning.

“I’m not sure yet, but I’m assuming this poor bastard was caught at the wrong place at the wrong time. My guess he’s either an Angel or a King, and whatever drug ring he doesn’t belong to is responsible for killing him,” came a voice next to me. I broke out of the blood-fixed trance that I was in, and metaphorically rejoined everyone that was at the crime scene.

The voice came from my trusted colleague, Gabe Saporta, who worked alongside me in the lab at Jersey Metro. He was knelt beside me, swabbing underneath the victim’s fingertips for evidence. I was crouched down to Gabe’s right, taking pictures of every angle of the gruesome, yet gorgeous crime scene. My heart rate was accelerated, of course, much like it is at just about every crime scene that I have ever visited. I took each crime scene, each victim, as an opportunity to plan out my own very hidden agendas. Each droplet of blood was like a puzzle piece, connecting me to each killer, who in the immediate future after would become a victim of my own.

“Way, what do you think?”

A different voice spoke this time, instantly plucking me from my thoughts as I gazed up from my crouching position next to the body, at the very irritated Brendon Urie. That fucker.

“Victim died from a single stab wound to the heart,” I explained, giving him my best attentive look as I set my camera aside, and began to walk everyone through my take on what happened here... which turned out to be what I wanted them to think. “He bled out instantly, there was no struggle.”

“That’s really fucking helpful, why don’t you tell us something we don’t already fucking know?”

I narrowed my eyes slightly at the seething detective, though despite my best efforts, managed to give him a very sincere smile. “Sorry, at this point this is as cut and dry as it gets. I think the victim knew the attacker, so until we find out who he is, I don’t have much else to say,” I offered in explanation, which only seemed to infuriate him even further.

“You better have some answers in the morning. I’m going to join your brother questioning those witnesses, maybe he’ll be a little more useful,” Detective Urie huffed, before storming off a short distance where my brother was speaking with a few people that had gathered around.

“You know, I typically hate that guy, but tonight I sort of understand why he’s got his panties in such a twist,” Gabe spoke suddenly, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“Why’s that Gabe?” I questioned, giving him a genuine smile. Over the few years that we have worked together, he has grown into one of the only people that I could truly tolerate on a daily basis, even if he was a bit of a nuisance at times. He had a good heart, and truly cared about forensics and gave his position in Jersey Metro his all.

“Before I got the call to come out here, I was about to seal the deal with this sweet little bartender from Los Gringos,” Gabe replied, giving a frustrated sigh. “Cockblocked, once again,” he muttered, shaking his head as he continued to dust the victim’s body for evidence.

I couldn’t help but grin then; this was my favorite part about working with Gabriel Saporta.

“You know, Gabe,” I piped up, attempting not to let my eagerness for him to go away show too much. “I’m perfectly okay with staying here and finishing sweeping the scene for prints. There’s no need for both of us to stay, if you want to go,” I offered, giving him my best innocent smile.

Gabe’s eyes lit up at my proposal, instantly agreeing to my little proposition. “You really are the fucking best, Gerardy,” he said with an obvious smile in his voice, before gifting me with a slight squeeze around my shoulders. I returned the slightly awkward hug, and waved in goodbye as the tall, dashingly good looking gentleman literally made a beeline for his car, freeing me alone to do my work in peace.

Finally.

I put my camera away, and began doing my own personal sweep of the crime scene, knowing that the evidence Gabe had already collected was done half-heartedly due to how distracted he was previously, but after several minutes, came up with absolutely nothing helpful.

Sighing, I backed away from the crimson soaked, yellow caution taped area, and took in the rest of my surroundings. It had rained recently, so most of the DNA was already wiped clean. It’s moments like these that I regret the decision to quit smoking, the nicotine always seemed to help clear my thoughts just a bit and helped me think a little outside the box, as a brilliant idea then hit me. Of course, it was there all along, I just failed to realize it.

Just as I was about to give up any hope of finding anything useful here, my eyes fell once again to the gorgeous trail of blood that led from the victim toward the drain slightly off into the distance, and out of nowhere, one lonely little discarded cigarette butt glistened in the pale moonlight. I sauntered to it, kneeling slightly and, with a swift look over my shoulder to see my frustrated younger brother in a heated discussion with Brendon Urie, I picked up the forgotten, blood-soaked cigarette up off the ground and surveyed it in my glove covered hands. I’m very certain that this belongs to our killer, it has to be.

It had only been a few hours since my last kill, but I could already feel the overwhelming urge to find a new target for my table growing stronger by the second.

“And they always told me that smoking will kill you...” I mused aloud, as I tucked the evidence safely away in my pocket. I heard footsteps advancing toward me then, and couldn’t help but smile. I found that cigarette just in time.

“Please tell me you fucking found something that will lead us to the stupid fuck who did this.”

I gave a small smile at my frazzled looking younger brother, and shook my head. “Nothing too concrete, the rain kind of fucked us. I’ll know a little more in the morning when I run the DNA that we did find,” I explained, to which Mikey groaned.

“Don’t worry, we’ll catch this guy,” I grinned at my younger brother, putting an arm around him. “We have to be up soon, let’s go home.”

“Gladly,” Mikey replied, rolling his eyes as we both got into his vehicle, and began the ride home. He was dreading work in the morning, while I, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to head back into the lab.

Nights like these actually make me eager to go in to work in the morning.

+++

I emerged from the elevator onto the fifth floor of the Jersey Metro Homicide Department precinct, with my signature box of Krispy Kreme donuts in hand. My colleagues all flocked to me like a moth to a flame, greedily picking out their favorites. I was all smiles of course, trying my best to maintain my charming demeanor so nobody catches wind of what I do in my free time.

They absolutely could not know, nor ever suspect that I could be capable of such things. I really was doing everyone a favor, making their jobs easier considering the evil-doers they hunt down on a daily basis, I get rid of on an almost nightly basis. I rid the world of the worst criminal offenders, before they get a chance to hurt and traumatize anyone else.

And it was then, as I continued my walk through the precinct with my near empty box of donuts, that I encountered his alluring smile.

“You know, Gerard, this is one of the highlights of my day,” he greeted me, still all smiles. “You’ve got what I want, right?”

I gave an actual smile as the voice greeted me, and held the box open for him. “Of course. Everyone knows that the New York Cheesecake one is for you and not to touch it,” I mused, as the head of our department withdrew the little donut from the box, therefore leaving it empty.

“Thanks Gerard,” Lieutenant Adam Lazarra smiled at me, before his tone turned a bit more serious. “I’m going to need the report back on the evidence that was gathered from last night’s crime scene as soon as you get it, okay?”

“Of course,” I replied, giving him my best, albeit a tad forced smile. He would be getting the evidence back, but it may not tell him everything he actually wants to see. “I’ll get right on it,” I said, tossing the now-empty box of donuts into the trash, and advancing over toward the lab.

“Thanks again,” he said, returning my smile and turning on his heel to address the rest of the good people of Jersey Metro.

“For fuck’s sake, Gerard.”

Before I could turn to address the voice, Brendon Urie was already in my face. “Can’t you stop flirting with your fucking boss for two fucking seconds so we can actually get some work done around here?”

I furrowed my eyebrows confusedly; I certainly was _not_ flirting with my boss. The thought was completely ludicrous. “I wasn’t,” I reasoned, rolling my eyes. “Don’t you have work you’re supposed to be doing?”

His eyes narrowed as my dear little brother appeared next to us, seemingly saving the day before Brendon could retaliate.

“I fucking found him, bro!” Mikey grinned euphorically, and I couldn’t help but return that grin with one of my own. Poor thing, he’s been working so hard to try to make detective, it’s almost painful watching the shit that he puts himself through for just even an ounce of recognition.

“Found who?”

The Lieutenant appeared next to us then, as the last of his donut disappeared into his mouth. “Please tell me you’ve got something, Mikey,” he said to my younger brother, to which Mikey nodded proudly.

“Last night, one of the guys we spoke to says that he saw a guy lurking around the corner a short time before the murder took place,” Mikey began to explain. “He recognized him as this dude that gave him a tattoo a short while ago, he works for the Black Mamba tattoo salon a few blocks down. I checked it out, and even though they wouldn’t give us any names, I did manage to swipe a business card while the douchebag at the counter wasn’t looking. I’m on my way to go check it out.”

“You got a name?” Adam asked, giving a grateful smile to my younger brother.

“Yeah, a Frank Iero,” Mikey replied. “That’s the only info that the card gave me, which is why I came back here to look up his address in the database, I’m on my way to his place now to see what I can find out.”

“Sweet. By the time you get back, the lab work should be done, we’ll see if we can get some solid evidence on this guy that ties him to the murder,” Adam said, giving me a look that told me to get my ass to work, to which I instantly nodded. “Brendon, go with him. Nice work, Mikey.”

“Thanks...” Mikey grinned, obviously beaming as he headed off toward the elevator. Brendon scoffed, obviously upset that Mikey was the one getting the praise for this one.

“See what you get for not minding your business?” I muttered innocently, finally walking toward the lab as Brendon stormed off after my brother.

Once I was securely in the sanctuary of my lab, I immediately sprung into action. I liked making sure that most of the people that would prove as a distraction were in fact away from the lab, for now at least, before I actually began my work. Mikey and Brendon were now gone, and Gabe had already texted me early this morning to inform me that he wasn’t feeling well. This obviously meant that he was suffering from a hangover and wouldn’t be in to work until well after noon, therefore giving me plenty of time to run my own reports to try to figure out who the killer to our currently nameless victim was; and soon to be victim of my own.

I pulled the little baggie of evidence out of my pocket then, before once again peeking through the window that separated the lab from the busy office outside. The cracks in the blinds informed me that everyone was too caught up in their own affairs to bother me, which caused a wide grin to spread across my face as I placed the cigarette butt into the generator to be analyzed for DNA.

My fingers tapped eagerly against the countertop as I not-so-patiently awaited for the results to come back; this being the longest sixty seconds of my life as my computer finally came back with a match.

My eyes were drawn to the screen in an instant, and as I awaited the image to load, I let my future victim’s name fall from my lips.

“Frank Iero...”

My voice held a curious tone as Frank’s image appeared on the screen, causing my eyes to widen, just slightly. I’ve _never_ seen someone with a mugshot quite like this one; he held that little alphabet board with his name on it quite proudly within his ink-covered fingers. I couldn’t help but noticed that his hair was fixed rather nicely, almost as if he expected to have his picture taken at some point that day.

There was something so absolutely mesmerizing about Frank’s mugshot, I honestly couldn’t bring myself to look away from it. His picture held my gaze, captivating me as I continued to study and comprehend just _why_ I felt like his green eyes were boring so deeply into my own, seemingly daring me to come after him... and as if that wasn’t enough to do it for me, this ridiculously sexy _smirk_ that he wore upon his rather... _attractive_ face was more than enough.

I forced myself to look away then, realizing that I’d gotten the evidence that I needed to place Frank at the crime scene, I should be happy about this. I then decided to click on the details of his arrest, and realized he had been arrested quite a few times thus far. I clicked the link for his first arrest, and gave a small grin as this picture of him was much more innocent, more frightened looking.

“Arrested for DUI,” I murmured, reading the details of his first arrest that landed him in jail for two weeks. “Out on bail, only to be back in a few months later for possession...”

I frowned slightly; though the details of his many arrests were there, nothing in his wrap sheet hinted anything remotely close to him being a cold blooded killer. Was I wrong about him? _Had_ Frank done this, or was he simply like our current victim, simply at the wrong place at the wrong time?

I couldn’t help but realize that with each arrest, every mugshot that was taken of him seemed to lose that fear of being arrested; kind of like he knew it was coming. Especially this most recent one, with that gorgeous fucking smirk plastered across his face, daring me to figure out who he was and what he was capable of.

The twisting of the door handle caused me to minimize the screen with Frank’s image on it, as I turned to make eye contact with a very hungover looking Gabe Saporta.

“So sorry I’m late, Gerardy,” he said apologetically, wrapping his long arms around my frame.

“It’s more than okay,” I replied, eagerly trying to think of ways to get him out of my hair. “I’m just running a few reports, I’ve got this taken care of... you know... if you wanted to maybe take a nap in your office, I could cover for you if you need me to.”

Gabe then dropped to his knees in front of me, and wrapped me in an even tighter hug than before. “You’re a fucking angel, Gerardy,” he grinned enthusiastically in thanks, as he quickly gathered his things and headed toward the back of the lab to his office, shutting the door behind him as he did so.

Once he was out of sight, I pulled Frank’s mugshot back up, studying it once more. That fucking _smirk_...

And as if on cue, my eyes darted up to once again survey the hustle and bustle that was taking place on the outside of the lab, and right then, at that very second, the elevator doors opened, and in walked the one and only Frank Iero, escorted by my sailor mouthed younger brother and that douchebag detective extraordinaire, Brendon Urie. I watched as Mikey trailed behind them, practically glaring daggers into the back of Brendon’s head.

Much like the impact that Frank’s mugshot had on me, I simply could not draw my eyes away from him. He was here in the flesh, being escorted to one of the interview rooms wearing a tight fitting Jawbreaker tee, as well as some dark denim skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees... I couldn’t help but realize how magnificently they fit him.

But then, just as I realized that I had been staring at him, his eyes flickered over in the direction of the lab and met with my own. The look of utter boredom on his attractive face then lit up as we made eye contact, and was replaced with that _same_ fucking smirk from his mugshot.

I couldn’t help but return his with one of my own, but just as quickly as we made eye contact, he was shoved into the interview room by Brendon, who was now yelling at Mikey for some reason or another. I lost interest in their argument, and turned to face my computer screen with that fucking mugshot once again.

Sure enough, the same expression that graced his features as we made eye contact matched the one on this mugshot just perfectly. Maybe he _was_ daring me, after all...

I then felt my adrenaline coursing at this thought, this was going to be _fun_. I doctored up some makeshift lab reports then, making sure that everything was in order so that I could put my own spin on this investigation.

I exited the lab, stopping by the Lieutenant’s office, to find that he wasn’t in there. I let myself in, dropping one of the files full of analysis on his desk like he had asked me to, before quickly sauntering over to Interview Room 3 where my little brother was standing outside of the plate glass one way window. “I fucking hate that guy,” Mikey’s tone was annoyed as I walked up beside him. “This was my fucking moment, and as always, that dickhead had to make it all about himself. We don’t even have any solid evidence on this guy, that’s why I was going there to his house, to fucking follow up on his whereabouts last night and get his alibi. But no, that cocksucker Brendon fucking Urie had other plans, and burst into his house like a fucking lunatic and arrested him. We’re fucked.”

I couldn’t help but nod emphatically in agreement. Brendon did have a rather terrible temper that caused him to get into a lot of trouble, and would wind up fucking up several investigations because he jumped the gun and went around accusing people and arresting them before we could gather any solid proof that could link them to whatever crime he was accusing them of.

“I think it’s best you stay out of this one, little brother,” I said then, offering Mikey my best smile. “Lab reports gave us nothing connecting Frank to this murder, Brendon’s wasting his time. The lieutenant’s gonna be pissed.”

“You’ve got that right,” Mikey replied, rolling his eyes at the events that were happening on the other side of the glass. “Well, as much as I’d like to stick around and see Brendon drown, I’ve got actual policework to do. See ya, bro.”

Mikey walked off then, shaking his head as he did so, leaving me all alone to watch Detective Urie dig himself further and further into the hole he had created for himself. Deep down I was grateful whenever he would jump the gun and botch witness and suspect interviews, because that was less work for me to do. The suspects would typically be cleared to go, and that’s when I would swoop in, and do what I do best; terminating their existence and disposing of them so they couldn’t hurt or harm anyone else.

With that thought, my eyes flickered up to Frank, who was gazing boredly at his cuticles. Detective Urie was pacing back and forth, trying to appear intimidating, and I couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous his tactics were at trying to get people to confess. I hit the button on the little speaker to the left of the window so that I could hear what was going on inside, completely intrigued by whatever it was that Frank had to say.

“So Frank, would you mind telling me one more time why you were spotted at the crime scene last night?”

I watched with great interest as Frank shifted slightly in his chair, peering un-amusedly up at Brendon. “It’s like I told you before, and I will tell you again,” Frank began, his voice calm. “I was working late last night and my car broke down. The crime scene just so happened to be on my walk home, though when I passed by, it was quiet and empty. What more do you want me to say?”

 _The truth_ , I thought to myself, unsure of whether I believed Frank’s version of an alibi or not. If the tattoo parlor that he works at is just a few blocks away, then it is possible that Frank had walked past the crime scene on his walk home after work last night. But what are the odds that he just so happened to flick his cigarette exactly two feet away from where the body was found? It almost seemed too convenient, I needed to figure out just how Frank is involved with all of this.

I watched from behind the one-way glass as Brendan ran a frustrated hand through his slicked back hair, realizing he was almost out of ammunition. This is what he gets, however, for stepping on my baby brother’s toes before he had any concrete evidence.

“Did you happen to see anything out of the ordinary on your walk home?” Brendan asked, his eyes narrowed at our suspect. He leaned over the table then, a short distance away from Frank’s rather... attractive face. “It just as easily could have been you that wound up dead in that alleyway.”

“No, _detective_ , nothing out of the ordinary,” Frank replied, rolling his eyes at Brendon then, folding his arms across his chest. “It's a shitty neighborhood, people get attacked all the time. Maybe I'm just lucky, I don't know.”

“Enjoying the show?”

The voice that came from my right caused me to jump just slightly. Had I not been so caught up in watching ‘the show’ on the opposite side of the glass, I would have sensed Frank’s lawyer sneaking up on me. I flashed him a quick smile, before nodding in reply. “It beats sitting around the lab all day,” I spoke up, to which he nodded.

“’Scuse me, I’m off to ruin Detective Urie’s day,” Ryan Ross said with a devilishly evil smile, before bidding me adieu and emerging into the interview room.

“What did I tell you about talking to my clients when I'm not present, Urie?” Ryan asked with an amused tone in his voice, interrupting Brendon’s questioning with a smug grin on his face. “You know how much I hate repeating myself, I shouldn’t have to keep reminding you.”

The look on Brendon’s face was absolutely priceless as he glared absolute daggers through Ryan, who was busily straightening his suit jacket before returning his attention to the seething detective. I couldn’t help but watch their interaction with an amused grin on my face; it never fails, this seemed to be the usual customary greeting whenever Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie came face to face with each other.

“Well, seeing as it took you so long to get here, I didn’t have all day to wait around for you,” Brendon began, returning Ryan’s smug look with one of his own. “I was just trying to figure out why such a low-life two-bit criminal like Frankie boy here was doing out so late at night around the time our latest victim was killed. I didn't have all day to sit back and fucking wait for you, I needed answers.”

Ryan shook his head in Brendon's direction. “Brendon, Brendon. You know better than that,” he began to speak, before laying his briefcase on the table and taking a seat next to Frank. “Mr. Iero here has done nothing wrong, and holding him here because you are desperate to prove your detective skills to the whole world won't hold ground in court. I’m sure that you're quite aware of this by now.”

The grin on Ryan’s face was more smug than ever as Brendon glared at him, with absolute venom in his eyes. This did nothing to phase Ryan, however, who was now relaxed in his seat, speaking with his client. I couldn’t help but realize that they already seemed to know each other, I’m guessing that Ryan had represented Frank in the past during one, or even several of his many indescretions.

Ryan Ross was a usual face around our office. He was quite a successful defense attorney that represented many of the perps that graced our precinct, and found their way onto my table once they were freed on a technicality or two thanks to Ryan’s sneaky, clever tactics in the court room. That being said, his services came with a pretty heavy price. Frank must be pretty well off to be able to afford him; that, or whoever Frank works for sent Ryan in for him on his behalf.

My intrigue was growing stronger by the second, but would have to be put on hold as I realized that I had been watching for long enough. It was now _my_ turn to ruin Brendon’s day.

I shut the volume button off before entering the room, all eyes suddenly on me. “Sorry for the interruption, but I've got that lab work you wanted me to run,” I said to Brendon, giving my best charming grin as I handed the file over to him.

“About fucking time,” *Brendon muttered, tearing the file away from my fingers. As the detective read over the file, I readied myself for the backlash I knew was coming my way as I took a seat on the opposite side of the table from Frank, gifting him the very slightest of smiles.

He raised a curious eyebrow at me, before gifting me with that same ridiculously perplexing smirk from before. But before I could attempt to untangle what that look he was giving me meant, our moment was interrupted by a very fuming Brendon Urie.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He asked, glaring at the paperwork before glaring back at me; throwing the file full of papers on the table in front of him.

Ryan picked up the few stray papers, grinning victoriously. “So it looks like if you don't have anything on him, my client is free to go then?” He asked, his face more smug than I’ve ever seen it before as he got up from his seat, and headed toward the door. “I'm going to have a nice chat with the chief about my client’s release, if you'll excuse me.”

Brendon practically had smoke coming out of his ears, he was that angry. “Just stay the fuck here Frank, don't you fucking move until _I_ say you can go,” Brendon ordered, almost looking as if he were about to strangle someone. “Gerard, stay here and make sure the fucker doesn't go anywhere,” Brendon added, before storming off after Ryan.

So much had happened in the few short minutes that I entered the interrogation room, including several longing stares between Frank and I.

I very well could have been imagining it, however, seeing as he was now toying with an empty Coke can as if it were the most interesting thing on the planet. I simply could not take my eyes off of him, as the thought of having this gorgeous little specimen on my table began to creep into my mind.

I was quickly forced to shove that thought aside, however, as I realized then that I needed to get back into lab-technician-Gerard-mode, with quickness. I put on my best charming smile, before clearing my throat to get Frank's attention. “Sorry about him,” I spoke in a somewhat shy voice, as I attempted to gather the discarded papers and placed them into a neat pile in front of me.

Frank stared at me, attempting to gather a reply, before the sound of shouting voices outside of the room broke his concentration.

“You really caused one hell of a riot here today, Frank,” I grinned amusedly, motioning toward the door where the voices of Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie were both pleading their case to the chief. “Thanks, I didn't think we would get to see any excitement around here today.”

Frank smiled at me, a real, genuine, _gorgeous_ smile that flashed every last one of his perfect teeth. “Is Detective Douchebag always like that?”

“Always,” I replied, my tone still rather amused; rather liking the way that smile looks upon Frank's face. “The guy really just needs to hurry and come out of the closet, it would make his life so much simpler if he did.”

Frank snorted in reply, I’m sure unintentionally, as he quickly covered his mouth. I couldn’t help laugh at his actions, noticing that his cheeks were significantly a bit more red than before.

“I mean, with that hairdo that he's got going on and that pink v-neck t-shirt he’s got on under his suit, it's only a little obvious,” Frank replied, seemingly more relaxed as our light-hearted conversation continued.

“I know, right?” I let out a much needed laugh; finding this strangely easier than I originally thought that it would be, and I couldn’t help but wonder as to why this is.

“He's the resident charmer around here, I get to wake up bright and early and come to work with that every day,” I continued, giving a small sigh as my fingers drummed clumsily against the table. I wanted to get to the questions that I had for Frank but I knew that I couldn’t do so without seeming like I was up to an agenda of my own. I had to refrain, for now, at least.

“He sounds like a peach,” Frank replied, giving me a smile as we made eye contact once again. We sat there with our eyes locked together in a thick silence for what seems like hours, with curiosity swimming beneath his rather pretty green eyes before I forced myself to look away.

“Do you know how long they're gonna make me stay here?”

His words were soft spoken and calm, and it was then that I found the perfect moment to throw in my first curve ball to see if he would take the bait and offer up something useful. “I think they're sorting that out right now, actually. Brendon would probably like to keep you locked up for as long as he can...”

My words trailed off on purpose, as a devious smirk that matched the one Frank had previously given me- the same smirk he wore in his mugshot, crossed my features as I said my next few elegantly spoken words. “ I mean... I _did_ find a cigarette with your DNA on it, soaked in the victim's blood at the crime scene, but that doesn't mean that you _killed_ him. I think that keeping you trapped here is a _severe_ waste of everyone's time, surely you have a life that needs getting back to.”

“E-excuse me?”

The smirk on my face grew wider, and a tad bit evil as I noticed that his face had turned ghost-white as his previously calm demeanor was shattered once I had spoken those words. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“I think you heard me just fine, Frank,” I replied, gazing innocently at him; _wanting_ him to know that I knew more about him and his involvement with this case more than I previously let on.

And almost as if on instinct, the door to the interrogation room burst open, revealing a very frustrated Lieutenant Lazarra with the ever-so-smug Ryan Ross trailing in right behind him. “Alright Mr. Iero, you’re free to go,” Adam spoke up, leaving Frank with an obviously confused look upon his face. “Don’t leave town or anything, we may need to speak to you again soon.”

“Well when you do, make sure you remind your charming detectives not to ask Mr. Iero any questions without my presence,” Ryan replied, an obvious grin in his voice as he walked over to Frank, and helped usher him toward the door. “Come on Frankie, you’re free! Let’s go grab lunch and celebrate.”

Adam had already left, followed shortly by Ryan, who had his arm around his client and was going on and on about how much he wanted some grilled salmon. Frank didn’t seem to hear a single word, however, as he continued to stare back at me, gazing questioningly as I continued to give him my best innocent grin.

“See you _soon_ , Frankie...”


End file.
